


Thirty-One Days of Scarecrow

by ScaryScarecrows



Series: The Autumn Effect [17]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Halloween Collection, Oh Gotham, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-07 08:05:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 10,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8790034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScaryScarecrows/pseuds/ScaryScarecrows
Summary: Scarecrow loves Halloween. Won't you celebrate it with him?





	1. Crows

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Halloween collection. So yes, some of it might fall under Early Installment Weirdness.

Jonathan Crane leaned against his bedroom window and watched the crows. They'd come out of the chapel and into the fields-fitting, since it was Halloween.

Somewhere, his classmates were out getting drunk and destroying public property. When he was younger, he would have liked to join them. Now he just wanted Granny to go to sleep.

The crows gathered in the cornfield and cawed at a group of pirates walking by. Jonathan half-expected them to attack, but they didn't. Maybe the pirates weren't close enough to bother with.

He flopped back on his bed and looked at the door. Granny hadn't come up yet. Maybe she had fallen asleep in her chair by the fire. He didn't feel like risking his neck tonight and decided to stay put. She was already upset because this was 'the Devil's holiday'. Whatever.

A crow landed on his windowsill and cawed at him. He cringed. Why couldn't it go back to the chapel, where it belonged? Granny had nothing to punish him for today. It had no business being here.

His got up and smacked the glass. The crow squawked and fluttered away. Ha.

Jonathan went back to bed and looked up at the ceiling. After a few minutes, the stairs creaked. Granny was going to bed. He gave it a few minutes to make sure she wouldn't come back, then reached under his mattress for the book of ghost stories he'd gotten from the library.

Happy Halloween, indeed.

THE END

AN: **_Some of these are funny_**

**_and some of these are dry_ **

**_but most of them will make you scream_ **

**_and some might make you cry._ **

_Never write poetry again, you're terrible._

**_I'd like to see you try it!_ **

_Shut up, Scarecrow._


	2. Pumpkin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written to a combination of Breaking Benjamin's 'The Diary of Jane' and The Used's 'The Bird and the Worm'.

It's his first Halloween away from Granny and he's lying on the couch, barely able to breathe and questioning reality. Surely the walls aren't supposed to move.

"Jonathan? You okay?"

No. No, he is not okay. At least she's home. Now he can go to bed without worrying that she's been mugged or something.

"Mm-mm."

"You look like death, love. Three minutes."

He can't even stay awake for three minutes.

* * *

_"Where you goin', Ichabod?"_

_"Yeah, come back here, Ichabod!"_

_He flings himself behind a heavy tree, gasping and wiping pumpkin out of his eyes. He's lucky his glasses only snapped, not shattered, but it feels like his nose is broken. He'll check when he gets home._

_He shouldn't have believed them. They're always playing little 'jokes' like that, he shouldn't have gone. It says something, really, about his gullibility._

_Footsteps run by his hiding place and he tenses, prepared to run. They fade into the distance. Jonathan gets up, checks to make sure they won't come back, and begins the long trudge home._

_It's spooky out here this late at night. Sometimes he thinks he hears something following him, but there's never anything there._

Don't be an idiot, Jonathan, you're the only one out here for miles.

_There! There's that horrid old scarecrow that's been there as long as he can remember. Just a few more steps and he's home free. His nose hurts. He won't be able to hide this from Granny, and he doesn't plan to try._

_He's in bed with the lights out by one in the morning, shivering from the cold air. He doesn't sleep that night._

* * *

"Jonathan? Wake up, love."

He blinks. The walls are no longer moving. He feels phantom pain in his face from that long-ago night, but it fades almost immediately.

"Jonathan."

"K-Kitty."

"Hey. How're you feeling?"

"Really tired."

"I came home and you were sick." she says. "You fell asleep before I could get your temperature."

"Sorry."

After a minute, Kitty puts her hand on his forehead.

"Go to bed, love."

He stumbles into their bedroom and drops onto the bed. After a few minutes, he feels the blankets tugged over him.

"You all right?"

"Just a dream."

"Nightmare?"

"Mm-hm."

"Feel like talking?"

Maybe tomorrow. His throat's killing him right now and he just wants to sleep.

"Later."

"Night, love."

He's about to drop off when a whiff of pumpkin pie drifts in through the window. He grimaces and gets up to shut it. He's never been able to stomach pumpkin pie, not after that little incident.

_ "Ichabod!" _

He shakes his head and goes back to bed. It's one in the morning. Perhaps he imagined the pumpkin pie, perhaps not. Whatever the case, he doesn't want to remember any more.

Kitty winds herself around him like-pardon the pun-a cat. He doesn't move her, even though she'll probably catch whatever it is he has.

"Night, Kitty." he says softly. His throat twinges at the use. She doesn't answer him.

Jonathan closes his eyes and tries to forget that night. It doesn't matter anymore.

THE END


	3. Halloween Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is why you should always bring your own drink to public events. Moody was RIGHT!

God, he hates them.

He's always hated them, really, even when he was an intern. Their fake smiles and annoyingly gregarious ways…yes. He loathes them.

He's been the director here for three years and has quietly suffered through their drunken parties. But not tonight. It's risky, and he could wind up a patient here, but it'll be worth it. At last, he'll turn their drunken giggling into horrified screams.

He spiked the punch with a more potent form of his newest toy and retreated to his office to wait. When it's kicked in, he'll return. Or, rather, Scarecrow will arrive.

He glances at the monitor, wondering when the stumbling and screaming will begin. It didn't take so long on his subjects, but they're insane anyway and he gave them a straight dose. He's patient. He's always been patient-one of his few good qualities.

Was that a cry? He checks the monitor again, searching for the cause…yes. It was a cry. And there's more. It's time.

They don't notice Scarecrow at first. He isn't particularly remarkable among the other decorations and their own hallucinations. He doesn't like to be ignored, even if it's by accident. This will have to change.

He steps up to one of the nurses-he's forgotten her name-and takes hold of her shoulders.

**_"Hello, sweetheart."_ **

She screams and pries at his hands. He moves them to her neck and leans forward, breathing heavily.

**_"Having fun yet?"_ **

The screams around him are becoming more high-pitched and wordless. He releases the nurse and begins making his rounds. It's only polite to greet everyone, after all.

God, he loves Halloween.

THE END


	4. News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All opinions expressed in this piece are Jonathan Crane's, not mine. Not that I'm off the hook-I'm sure he doesn't like me, either.

He's been on the news lots of times, but never live. The only footage they have of him is a handful of grainy cell phone videos.

That's all about to change.

"Hello, Gotham." Scarecrow rasps to the camera. "We interrupt this broadcast for a very special announcement."

Apart from this being his annual Halloween performance, this serves a more practical purpose. Namely, the scary fansites they stumbled upon a few weeks ago. Those have got to go. He still has memories of one story involving himself and the Joker doing…nighttime things. With handcuffs.

_Please quit bringing that up, it makes me ill._

**_I didn't mean to! It just appeared._ **

_You're live, so talk._

"How is everyone tonight?" He cocks his head to the side-the best he can do for a smile. "Happy? Healthy? **_Scared out of your wits?_** "

He perches himself on the edge of the desk, and folds his hands in his lap. He can hear the reporters crying softly off-camera.

"I've been looking around on the internet lately." he says. "I like it. There's all sorts of demented individuals on there. Jonny reckons you could all do with some remedial English courses, but I don't care." He leans forward. "But then I came across something interesting."

The crying gets a little louder and he turns his head. It's mostly coming from a young woman in a nice skirt and shiny heels. He chose this station because of her. She is the one that wrote the horrible, horrible story under the penname of _Slashfan3200_. She won't be writing anything else for a long time.

"There are several fansites out there on the big bad net. Some of them were rather amusing. I was even flattered by a few. But some of them made me **_sick_**."

Jonathan takes over and tugs the mask off. After a minute of straightening his hair and putting his glasses back on, he faces the camera.

"I can't have you thinking this is a joke, Gotham." he says lightly. "It is me, I assure you. Now, about those websites…"

He stands up and walks over to the crying woman.

"Miss Adrianne Walker." he reads. "Known in some circles as Slashfan3200. Tell me, Miss Walker, where do you get your ideas?"

She takes one look at him and squeezes her eyes shut. He shoots a grin at the camera and kneels down next to her. When she still refuses to make eye contact, he grips her face and makes her look at him.

"I honestly don't care where you get them. I just want you to **_stop slandering my name_**." He forces Scarecrow back down and drags the woman over to the desk. "The only stories you will be writing from now on will be the ravings of a madwoman."

Scarecrow takes control again and puts the mask back on, scratching up Jonathan's glasses in the process.

"Sweet dreams."

He gasses her and her cries become full-blown shrieks of terror. Scarecrow stands there, drinking it all in, before turning back to the camera.

"Pleasant screams, Gotham. Don't forget to check your children's candy for razor blades. And now for the weather."

The screen goes black.

THE END


	5. Trick or Treat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kitty probably hasn't been, either, but it looked fun and it's supposedly a Thing, hence her confusion. But that's Jonathan for you. No childhood. :p

"What do you mean, you've never been trick-or-treating?"

He looks blankly at her and repeats his statement.

"Seriously? You've never been?"

"No…hey! What are you doing?"

She flings a sheet over his head and tells him to hold still. Then there's the _snip-snip_ of scissors and eye holes appear in the sheet. What did she just do?

"There. Come along, we're going out."

"What? Why? Can't we stay home and watch _Psycho_ or something?"

"No! You may be deprived, but you'll do this once before you die, and that's final."

She shoves a pillowcase into his hands and drags him out the door.

"Aren't we too old for this?"

She ignores him.

Shockingly, no one questions their age. Even more shockingly, people open their doors. Gothamites, opening their doors past sunset? Perhaps the world is ending.

He's not impressed by the flimsy decorations, but one man sat outside dressed as a werewolf. When they got close, he sprang at them. Not bad.

All in all, he's not sure what to think about this. On one hand, Scarecrow loved it. On the other hand, he's tired and not particularly frightened. Isn't Halloween supposed to be a night of screams?

"There. At least you've done it."

And they still have time to watch _Psycho_ before bed.

"What was the point?"

"Free candy, mostly." she says, digging through her bag. "Ugh, I hate these. Do you want them?"

"Want what?"

"Crows. Licorice gumdrops."

**_Gimme!_ **

"Sure, I'll try them."

Scarecrow likes them. Jonathan doesn't think they're that terrible. If he finds any in his bag, he'll be more than happy to eat them.

"Something's missing."

"What."

"I thought Halloween was for screaming."

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

"Not these days, love. It's for free candy."

Humph. Next year he'll have to do something about that. Maybe he'll set up a good, old-fashioned jump scare for anyone that knocks on their door.

Yes. That should remind people what Halloween is all about.

THE END


	6. Razor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: suicide attempts ahoy. I made the grave mistake of rewatching Alice in Chains' Unplugged performance and got all depressed. Again. If you, too, want to be depressed, go watch 'Nutshell' from that show.

He read somewhere that people who die on Halloween come back as a ghost. If it's true, he hopes to come back as a poltergeist. Then they'll all be sorry.

He takes one last look in the mirror, taking in his pale face and taped-up glasses. Pathetic. Although he supposes the blood will look particularly red against his skin. The least he can do is make this pretty. Or at least memorable for the idiot who finds him.

He sits down against the wall and looks at his surroundings for the last time. The bathroom is old and grey and slightly cobwebby. If he comes back as a ghost, hopefully he won't be trapped in this room.

He looks at the shiny razor, so cold in his fingers. Time to get it over with.

The blade cuts into his skin, bringing red liquid to the surface. It doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would. Almost done. Then he'll just have to wait.

His hand wobbles and veers off course. The sight of it brings him to his senses and he takes a shuddering breath as the blood spills onto the tiles. Granny will be angry…she'll know…he'll be in the chapel for a sin like this.

He wraps his now-throbbing wrist in an old shirt and hurries to mop up the mess. What was he thinking? He should have known something would go wrong. Something always goes wrong.

Happy Halloween, he thinks bitterly. Happy Halloween indeed.

THE END


	7. Arkham Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *snickers* I had far too much fun inflicting unwanted attention on him. I'm a bad, bad person. OH! The murder Scarecrow mentions is dealt with in the 'College Days' collection, if anyone's curious.

Doctor Jonathan Crane sits in his office, listening to the horrible noise downstairs.

He really should be down there with his coworkers, feigning laughter and drinking a bit too much of the garishly orange punch. But god, he hates them all.

**_Why'd you take the job, then?_ **

_To help people, you idiot._

**_Philanthropist._ **

He rests his head on his desk, wishing he could go home. He's tired and feeling very overworked indeed. Mr. Snow needs a medication change, he can't forget that…and Miss Daisy has an appointment tomorrow at six…ugh. He needs to go home and sleep.

There's a knock on his door and his secretary calls, "Doctor Crane?"

Oh, no.

He really needs to fire this girl. She likes him a bit too much for his liking and besides, she spends all her time on the phone instead of working. Problem is, he can't call her into his office without her giving him _the eyes_ and simpering, "You rang, Doctor?"

God, couldn't he have been cursed with warts or something? He doesn't want all this female attention! It's the eyes, he knows it. Damn.

"Come in, Minnie."

He doesn't believe for one second that her given name is Minnie, but that's all she'll answer to.

Sure enough, she flounces in, looking a little tipsy. Her shirt is unbuttoned far too much for his comfort and he fixes his gaze to his desk.

"What do you want?"

"Aren't you gonna come down for the party?"

"I have a lot of things to finish up here."

"Want help?"

"No, thank you."

"Are you sure? You work too much, Doctor."

**_Let me at her, just five minutes!_ **

_No. The last time I let you have free rein, you killed someone. Again._

**_Oh, he was asking for it. Let me see her._ **

_No. Now shut up._

"No, thank you. Go and…and enjoy the party. And send Miss Richardson up here, please." Maybe he can convince her to leave early, appearances be damned.

To his utter shock and horror, she plants a wet kiss on his cheek before flouncing out. That does it. Tomorrow, whether she's hungover or not, she's got to go.

He's attacking the lipstick mark with hand sanitizer when Kitty comes in, looking very worn indeed. At least she's sober.

"We have to go."

"You're the director! Why aren't you down there?"

"I was nearly assaulted by my secretary!" he hisses, waving the sanitizer-soaked tissue. "I am not going down there and having a halo stuck on my head."

"You've come down with the flu." she tells him. "Come along. Look pathetic."

Oh, good. Now he can soak his face in hot water.

"I'll drive you home, Doctor." Kitty says loudly. "You look terrible."

She needn't sound so gleeful.

Once they're safely at home, he turns out the lights to keep any late trick-or-treaters away and hurries to the shower.

**_It'll be different next year, Jonny._ **

_You're not coming out again._

**_We'll see._ **

THE END


	8. Church

Father Applegate does a double take when two new people come into his church on Halloween night. One of them is tall and thin, with rimless glasses and a black case in his hand. The other is a woman with a large purse and bright red lips. They take a seat near the door. Well, he's not about to turn away two potential members.

He's just about to begin his sermon when the tall man rises and lifts his hand for silence. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong indeed. He's seen this man somewhere before…

"Happy Halloween." he says. His voice is soft. "I trust that you've all been good Christians?"

What is he playing at? Is he drunk? Why isn't his companion…his companion is quietly locking the doors. Something is _very_ wrong here.

"You can't do that." he calls. She ignores him. He turns back to the man, intending to threaten to phone the police, and feels his words die in his throat.

A burlap face stares back at him. As he watches in horror, the face comes closer. A scarecrow…a living scarecrow…God preserve him, he can see things _moving_ in its mouth!

The face stares down at him, the cold blue eyes unblinking.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

And he raises his arm.

THE END


	9. Shower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has happened to me. Only I think it really did get caught, because no one with me was that much of a jerk. Oh, the fun of staying in a cheap motel...

"Jonathan, I'm…Jonathan?"

Why was the apartment dark? He was supposed to be home by now. If he'd left her to deal with the trick-or-treaters by herself, she was going to kill him.

"Jonathan? Scarecrow? If you two are playing a joke, I am not amused!"

She flicked on the lights and spotted a note.

_Kitty-some idiot called in sick, so I had to go to work. Should be home around seven. Be nice to the trick-or-treaters. –J. Crane_

Be nice to the…that asshole! How dare he tell her to be nice, when he bitched more than she did!

Well, she had half an hour before the doorbell would start ringing. Just enough time for a nice, hot shower.

She was just reaching for her scrubbie when she caught sight of a brown thing. Was that…ohgodohgodohgodohgod!

She hurtled out of the shower and fumbled to get a towel on before remembering to shut the water off. A roach was caught in her nice new scrubbie! She would never be able to use it again.

"Kitty? Are you in the shower?"

Oh, good! He could take care of it.

"Jonathan!"

"What's going…hey!"

"Kill it!"

"Kill what?"

"There is a…r-roach…in my scrubbie! Get it out of here and kill it!"

"A roach?"

Wait a minute. He sounded far too innocent. That bastard.

"Jonathan Crane…"

"Are you sure you saw a roach?"

"You put it there!"

"I was at work. Don't be paranoid."

"Lies! You put it there and hung out in the closet or something?"

"Kitty, I don't think…"

"Jonathan Crane, I am going to murder you for this."

"Actually, Scarecrow did it."

"And you let him." she seethed. He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and began inching towards the door.

"You might want to get dressed. You look like the girl from _Psycho_."

"You'll wish I was the girl from _Psycho_ when I'm done with you! Get back here!"

He darted out and disappeared into their bedroom. A minute later, she heard the lock snick. Oh, she'd get him for this. She'd let him suffer for a few days, but she would make him sorry.

THE END


	10. Scream for Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really, really old, even for this set, so it may seem a little strange compared to some of the others.

They kneel before him, pleading for their pathetic little lives. As if. Although…there's few things nicer than fear-tinged hope. He might as well let them think pleading will save them.

He raises his hand and they fall silent, all but for a few children. He'll let that slide for now.

"Happy Halloween, Citizens of Gotham." His voice grates and his vocal cords protest. "It may be your last."

At that, the tears start again, as do the desperate wails. He surveys his audience, taking in their physical reactions. Mothers clutch their children hard enough to hurt. Other people huddle close to the ground-as if that will save them! Pathetic, all of them. He's doing the world a favor.

"Unless…" Ah, they're trying to keep quiet again. Good. "Unless you can convince me otherwise."

Or get the nerve to rush him, but that's never happened. He doubts it ever will. If they do, he has no qualms about taking a child hostage. That should make them back off.

"You have five minutes to come up with an argument. I suggest you pick a good speaker."

He disappears behind the curtain and sinks into an old leather chair. This should be interesting. That's one of the things he misses about teaching, hearing other people's arguments.

He can hear them murmuring amongst themselves, perhaps plotting an escape. He wishes them luck if they try-the doors are rigged to flood the room with gas when opened.

The five minutes are up. He rises, feeling his joints snap-crackle-pop, and returns to the stage.

"Well?"

An old man comes to the front of the group, clutching a cane. The sight reminds him of _Her_ and it's an effort not to strangle him or worse.

"At least let the children out."

That's it? That's the best they can do? And _that_ is why he doesn't teach anymore, because people are idiots and can't think for themselves.

All the same, he bows his head, pretending to consider. And then he gets an absolutely _brilliant_ idea.

"Fine." he says. "Single file, no noise."

His instructions are obeyed to the letter. Any moment now…

_Hissssss!_

For a minute the room is silent. Then the screaming begins. Beautiful, delicious screams that are music to his ears. He'll never see the fuss about Christmas. This is so much better.

 ** _Scream for me._** he thinks. **_Come on, scream!_**

As if they're all mind-readers, the screaming rises. Sometimes he can pick out specific phrases. Ohhh, yes. Jesus, yes.

As much as he would love to stay, the Batman will show up eventually. Besides, it's getting late. He has to be back in time to catch the news.

Breathing heavily, he slips out the back door and leans against the wall, drinking in the last of the fear. A moment later he takes the burlap mask off and puts his glasses on. Perfectly normal.

**_Happy Halloween._ **

_Yes, Scarecrow. Happy Halloween._

THE END


	11. A Quiet Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, how the hell DO you eat a caramel apple?

Jonathan Crane leans against the wall, watching the shadows reach out over the grass. Tonight is Halloween, and his classmates will be out causing as much damage as they can. But they won't come up here. They know better. Granny Keeney will skin them alive if she catches them, and they know it. Funny, that the most dangerous place he knows is also the safest. Sometimes, anyway.

The shadows are fading fast by the time he slips downstairs and trudges across the field. Kitty said she had something for him. He's a little nervous-people have said they have something for him before, and it's never been good. He hasn't forgotten-or forgiven-the 'present' that turned out to be a rotting pumpkin to the face. He'd been lucky all he'd gotten was a broken nose. And the nickname of Ichabod, but that hadn't lasted.

Well, he may as well get it over with. He climbs up the old tree and leans over to knock on her window. After a minute, she flings the drapes open and lets him in. No pumpkin so far. That's good.

"I'm assuming you're deprived."

Of some things, yes. It depends on what she's asking about.

"Um…"

"My mum hasn't made these for years, but I guilted her into it. Since we had to move all the way over here." She rolls her eyes. "Georgia, I ask you…anyway, this is for you. Trick or treat, love."

It's a caramel apple. Rather, it's a chocolate-caramel apple. He's forcibly reminded that he didn't get dinner tonight. He could kiss her for this, he really could. He won't, but still.

"Thank you, Kitty."

"Eat that, you're a twig. I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?"

She looks away.

"Timeofthemonth." she says quickly. What…oh. Yeah. Okay. That's…nice.

"Ah."

"I mean it. Mum's been talking about kidnapping you and stuffing cheesecake down your throat. I think she's serious."

He's not surprised. Every time he sees her, Mrs. Richardson fusses over him and shoves food at him.

How is he supposed to eat it? He's never had one. There has to be a trick to it…

He ends up just biting into it. Selfishly, he's glad he's Kitty's only friend. Now he doesn't have to share the apple. Trick or treat, indeed.

THE END


	12. Costume

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my buddy W., who went as the Layne Staley to my Alice in Chains one year. We looked damn fine, too.

"What are you wearing?"

"A costume, love. Alice in Wonderland."

Scarecrow wrestles his way to the front to take a look. He likes the dress. It's nice and tight and short. When did this come into the picture? Why can't she wear this every day?

_Move over, you idiot._

**_I'm not done drooling!_ **

_Let me see…oh._

**_Uh-huh._ **

_I like that._

**_So do I._ **

_Did you buy that?_

**_Nope. Did you?_ **

_No._

Jonathan blinks a few times and stammers something about liking it. Kitty leans up to kiss his cheek and ducks around him to open the door for the trick-or-treaters. Once they're gone, she drops onto the couch with a wine cooler in her hand.

"I thought you'd like it." she says. "And my parents are back in England, visiting my grandparents. They won't be calling."

Is that so? That's good.

**_Now go and turn off the lights. I don't want any more kids coming by._ **

He's about to when Kitty smacks his hand away from the switch.

"The trick-or-treaters aren't done yet. You can look, but don't touch."

**_That's cheating! Be a man, Jonny. Turn them off anyway._ **

_For once, you have a point._

He reaches for the switch again.

"Jonathan Crane, if you touch that light switch, you're on the couch."

**_What are you doing? Don't touch the switch! You idiot!_ **

_You said to turn the lights off!_

**_That was before she threatened The Couch! Don't you dare touch that light switch!_ **

_Fine!_

"That's better. Now behave. They'll be done by ten."

But it's only six now.

Life just isn't fair.

THE END


	13. Awaken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea came to me while I was listening to 'Awaken' by Disturbed, hence the title.

It isn't as though they can do anything else to him. The brief time he spent in custody saved him from being sent to prison. He is insane, after all. Hearing voices isn't normal. So the worst they can do is send him back to Arkham, and he can escape from there within a week. Idiots.

He rubs his hands together and surveys his handiwork. It isn't the best-this was all rather spur of the moment-but it will do. Who will be expecting him to have rigged Gotham's corn maze with traps? Nasty, deadly, scream-inducing traps. And he will be there, of course, disguised as a scarecrow. Oh, it'll be beautiful.

He hears the voices of the first group and stills, his thin hands wrapping around the cross he's standing on. It's time. He has been reborn. At long last, he has found his life's calling.

Here they come! Any minute now they'll break the delicate wire that will trigger the fear gas. And then the screams will begin, and they'll run by him.

Sure enough, a shrill scream splits the night and he tenses, prepared to spring. Any minute now they'll run past, panicking.

Ah, here they come now! He can hear them screaming-at least one person thinks there's bugs on them-and he grins behind his mask.

The first one to stumble through the corn is a young woman, maybe sixteen or seventeen. She catches sight of him hanging there and tries to turn around. Oh, that won't do at all.

He jumps from the cross and grabs her, forcing her to look at his face.

"Happy Halloween."

The shrill screams make his eardrums rattle. Perfect. This is all just perfect.

"Is there something on my face, sweetheart?"

She squeezes her eyes shut and pushes at him. He tightens his fingers on her shoulders and inches one hand up to her neck. It wouldn't take much for this one, just a little squeeze…

_Fwam!_

He is knocked to the ground by something heavy and black. What on…oh, come on! Can't this lunatic bother somebody else for the evening?

"Come on, Crane."

His mask is yanked off his head and he is dragged through the corn. Back to Arkham it is, then. Unless they hit one of his other trip wires.

He'll do better next year, he decides. He'll plan more. He'll spend all year building up to it.

He lets his head fall back and enjoys the last of the screams as they exit the maze.

THE END


	14. Dawn

Jonathan supposes some people have fond memories of waking up on Halloween morning with the knowledge of impending candy. Other people might have been looking forward to a party, or to showing off their costume, or maybe to rigging their porch with jump scares.

He doesn't have any memories of those things. His memories of Halloween have blended into each other, save for the last…four? Three or four, he's not sure which.

He's lying in bed, watching the sun rise and wondering if Kitty can go one night without using him as a teddy bear. A beetle lumbers by and he puts out his finger for it to crawl on. It feels too much like birds' feet and he flicks it off a second later.

Everything has to go perfectly this evening. The Batman is probably going to be on high alert-oh, the tragedy of tradition!-and he has no desire to return to Arkham right now. If nothing else, that annoying clown is in there and he doesn't want to listen to his giggling in the middle of the night.

It should go fine. He has a good plan, and he's looked at all the angles. By ten o' clock tonight, Gotham will be shrieking in fear and he will be back here, watching the news and feeling very pleased with himself. If he's very lucky, Kitty might make that cinnamon tea he likes so much.

It's not even six yet. He can go back to sleep for a few more minutes. Or he could, if Scarecrow would quit yammering.

_Shut up._

**_This is how people feel about Christmas! I want to open my presents now!_ **

_You have to wait until seven. We agreed._

**_Crossed fingers?_ **

_You don't have fingers unless you're in charge, and you weren't at the time. So shut up and let me sleep._

**_Jonny…_ **

_I_ _will_ _wake Kitty up and have you deal with her._

That shut him up. Jonathan chuckled and closed his eyes again. God, he loved Halloween.

THE END


	15. Imposter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how irritated I was. Needless to say, the restaurant is no longer in business. The owner had a sudden mental breakdown. What a tragedy.-Crane

Jonathan has always liked Halloween. When one is the Master of Fear, Halloween tends to come with the territory.

This year, however, he's sitting on his couch, unable to move without vomiting. He's learned his lesson about questionable Chinese food restaurants. It's a shame he didn't learn it over Christmas.

"Don't look so glum, love." Kitty says from her chair. "It could be worse."

"Halloween." he groans. "The most important night of the year, and I'm sick for it."

"You could be dead, so quit your fussing."

Normally he would remind her what Halloween is all about, but his stomach is too queasy to bother with that.

"Thanks for the sympathy."

She turns on the news and unwraps a lollipop. He reaches for his 7-Up and takes a sip. Ugh. It's the only thing that will stay down, but he hates the taste.

"The Scarecrow was sighted at Arkham Asylum's Halloween Fundraiser earlier this evening…"

What? He was nowhere near the place! What idiot is claiming to be him?

"Thirty victims are being treated for hallucinations…"

"Is that it? Damn, they must not have liked the punch too much."

Huh?

"Kitty?"

"I have a reputation too, you know. If you don't show up, I'll never hear the end of it."

"How'd they mistake you for me?"

"Trade secret."

Oh.

He still isn't happy that she didn't tell him, and he's not thrilled about having food poisoning, but still. At least Gotham got a reminder that the Scarecrow doesn't take Halloween off.

THE END


	16. Injuries

Honestly, Kitty Richardson thinks, Jonathan Crane should not be this heavy. The man has only gotten skinnier since high school-a feat she would not have thought possible. How can he be so blasted heavy?

It's probably because he's nearly unconscious. She did not sign up for this! Oh, the price for being the Scarecrow's girlfriend…sometimes she wonders if it's worth it. The Batman, the stays in Arkham, the gunfire…and the Halloween to-dos. Like tonight.

"Kitty?"

"Almost there…please don't faint, or I'll have to drag you."

"I-it went well, didn't it?"

For crying out loud! He's been shot-nothing too serious, but still-and he's worried about the Work? Really?

Although, she has to admit, slipping fear toxin into the candy was a brilliant idea. It's so unlike him that nobody was expecting it. They were all watching the sports arenas, the theaters, and the schools.

Oh, look at that! They're home in time for the ten o' clock news. That'll put him in a good mood. And it'll get him to hold still while she looks at his shoulder.

"Down you go, love…there. Now hold still while I put you back together."

"It went well?" he asks again. "I don't remember…somebody panicked…"

"Yes. It went well. Try to stay awake."

She switches on the news and starts tugging his shirt off. She has to cut part of it away, but that's nothing new. They really do need to pay a visit to a tailor, though. She could do with a new coat. Winter's coming and her old one has blood on it.

"There we go. Into bed with you. And don't argue with me."

He's asleep within ten minutes.

THE END


	17. Preparations

Kitty falls back on the mattress and looks at the clock again. Considering all he really _has_ to do is put on that potato sack, Scarecrow takes forever to get ready. And it is Scarecrow right now-his movements are far too grandiose to be Jonathan's.

"I hate to nag, but we're going to be late! Put the thing on and let's go already."

"It takes time to get it positioned right."

Really? Because it looks to her like he's admiring himself in the mirror.

"Mm-hm."

"It does!"

"Of course it does. Now come on, hurry up."

"I'm not ready yet!"

"Then get ready and come on!"

She wonders if he's rolling his eyes at her.

"There." he says, his voice muffled. "Perfect."

"It looks exactly the same as it did before. Now come on, I will murder you if you've made us late."

The burlap face seems to frown at her and she tugs at his hand. Even though she knows who it is, it's still a little weird for that inhuman mask to be attached to such a warm, human hand.

"Please try not to get shot this time."

"I don't try, it just happens."

"You piss people off. So don't, I don't feel like cleaning up the mess."

THE END


	18. Children

"Scarecrow, scarecrow, how scary can you be? You scared all the others, but you didn't scare me!"

A group of giggling elementary children brushes by, still singing their song. Jonathan Crane scowls.

"I hate children." he grumbles. "They're always making a mess of things."

"At least you can hate them in peace." Kitty Richardson snaps. "If a woman admits it, she's a social pariah."

"You're already a social pariah, Kitty." he reminds her. "Remember?"

"Regardless." One of the singing children narrowly escapes hitting her leg and she frowns. "Nasty little buggers. Why anyone would want one is beyond me."

Jonathan smirks and buries his hands in his pockets. As odd as it feels to be wandering around in a baggy sweater and ill-fitting jeans, it _is_ Halloween. Every policeman in Gotham will be looking for him. But…

"Come on."

"What, why?"

Oh, she's going to hate him for this.

He drags her to a park and lowers himself onto one of the swings. He's too tall for it, really, but now they look nice and normal. Just two people reliving their childhood and all.

The thought makes him sick.

"Really."

"Good hiding place."

Then a ball hits him in the stomach and knocks him off the swing. All right, who signed up to be a test subject?

It's a child, about eight years old. Drat. He can't gas it without drawing attention to himself. Besides, harming children is a good way to be killed by Mothers Against Malevolent Masked Men.

"Watch out." he growls. The kid blows a raspberry at him and he sorely considers gassing it anyway.

"Oh, he didn't mean to, love." What. "He just has a death wish, that's all. Don't you, sweetie?"

The kid grabs his ball and runs back to his friends, visibly shaken. Kitty pulls Jonathan to his feet. He'll admit to being a little scared of her, really. Only a little.

"What was that?"

"I told you. Women can't openly hate them without spontaneously combusting."

The sun is beginning to set. It's almost showtime. And the first stop of the night? Gotham High's Fall Festival.

THE END


	19. Charm

She must not be from around here. No native Gothamite would wear a scarecrow charm. But it's Halloween. She's probably trying to embrace the Halloween Spirit.

"May I have a cup of coffee?"

England? No, she's not from around here. She's clueless. Hopefully she's not the stay-out-partying type. The Joker would love to get his hands on her. Or the Scarecrow, what with that necklace of hers. He'll warn her. It's only polite.

"Miss?"

"Mm?"

"That necklace…"

"Oh, you like it? My boyfriend got it for me."

Best to tread carefully, then. Boyfriend-gifted jewelry is always a touchy subject.

"We have a person here…"

"The Scarecrow? Yeah, I know. I'm not scared of him."

Idiot. Fine! Let her parade around after midnight! It'll come back to bite her.

"Never mind."

"Thanks for the coffee."

He's just cleaning up for the night when the door flies open. A long shadow falls across the counter.

"We're closed."

"Of all the people to stay late…Jonathan, love, will you do something for me? Please?"

Oh, no. He knows that voice. He doesn't like what it's saying.

"What?"

"Gas him."

He looks up in time to see the horrendous burlap face coming towards him, and then there's the sound of an aerosol can. When he blinks, the shop is covered in scorpions.

THE END


	20. Dream

_The cornfields stretch out before him, the tall stalks casting shadows that touch the front porch. The crumbling manor house is all but lost to time, the upper floors long since collapsed. Crows nest on the remains of the rafters, staring coldly at him. Why did he come back?_

_He trips over a rotting pumpkin and its guts spill on his shoes. When did anything grow here, let alone pumpkins?_

_Ah. It's Halloween. This probably rolled away and ended up here._

_He makes his way towards the porch and opens the door. It's dusty and cold in here, and he's sure that roaches and mice have taken over. He wonders briefly what became of the library._

_What on earth possessed him to come back?_

_"Hello, Jonny."_

_"Scarecrow."_

_The straw man materializes in a doorway. What little Jonathan can see of him is bloody. He's been playing with the crows again, apparently. Lovely._

_"It's changed, hasn't it, Jonny-boy?"_

_"Don't call me that." He doesn't talk back to Scarecrow very often, and his own tone surprises him. "Why are we here?"_

_"Don't look at me, Jonny-boy." Didn't he just say he hated that nickname? "What do you think about it? You're the psychiatrist."_

_Yes, but he's never done a self-examination. He'd much rather forget about Granny and his classmates and the one time he pressed a razor blade to his wrist. There had been so much blood…_

_Scarecrow's gone. Where is he? He was just here!_

_"Wake up, Jonny." His voice is coming from far away. "Wake up. Wake up…"_

"Jonathan?"

He takes a shuddering breath. When did he fall asleep? What time is it?

"Jonathan, are you all right?"

"The old lady in the basement…"

"Yes."

He pauses, trying to remember everything. She'd interfered with their work last night, on Halloween. Yes, that was right. Now he remembered more.

"She's no good for a subject." he says. "Have someone take her out and get rid of her. She looks too much like my grandmother, anyway."

"It's the middle of the bloody night! Go back to sleep."

Really? They've only been here for an hour, then.

"Sorry." he murmurs. "Happy Halloween, Kitty."

THE END


	21. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Precursor to the previous chapter.

He doesn't know what possessed him to take her as a hostage. With all the children scattered about, there was no reason to grab this old woman. Scarecrow knows better-at least, he _should_ know better-so why is she here?

She reminds him of Granny, with her withered hands and cracked voice and missing front teeth. It doesn't help that the old bat has spice and _is not happy_ to be tied up in their current lair.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, young man! Spare the rod and spoil the child, that's the cause of all this trouble." She nods and Jonathan takes a deep breath. He really, really doesn't want to deal with her tonight, but if she keeps pressing buttons…

"You're entitled to your opinion, I suppose."

" _My_ children minded their manners." she says firmly. "I don't know who raised you, but if you were my boy, you'd have behaved yourself."

Oh, what the hell? He's allowed to indulge himself a little. It is Halloween, after all.

He leans down, enjoying the panicked whimper.

"My grandmother believed much as you do. It didn't save her. It certainly won't save you."

He rather likes the ensuing screams. He never got the chance to test his toxins on dear old Granny, but she's the next best thing.

THE END


	22. Slow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previous winners of the Toxin Reaction of the Year award include: a woman who killed her own child, thinking it was the Antichrist, a man who disemboweled himself to remove the parasites from his stomach, and a man who cut off...certain treasured pieces of his anatomy, thinking it was a snake.-Dr. Crane

Jonathan Crane reclines in an armchair in an elementary principal's office. The night is done. Two hundred and thirty screaming children have been taken to the emergency room for hallucinations. He heard that one student jammed her mother's eyeballs backwards into her sockets, but that could just be a rumor. If it's true, it may take the Toxin Reaction of the Year award.

"Jonathan?"

Ah, yes. He is not alone in the dark office. Kitty Richardson is curled up practically on his lap, toying with the burlap mask in his hands.

"Yes?"

"When do you think he'll show up?"

"He's getting slow."

He doesn't like being kept waiting. He would have left by now if their lair hadn't been raided by the police earlier this evening. Besides, he needs a flu shot and Arkham makes them mandatory. Who is he to complain? A warmish bed and free vaccines are more than he had growing up.

"Crane."

"You let me gas an amphitheater full of elementary students?" He raises his eyebrows and tsk-tsks. "You're getting slow, Batman. Ah-ah!" he adds as the black arm rises to strike his head. "We surrender. You have to play nicely."

There's a low growl from the man in front of him and he permits himself a small smirk. It's just so easy to push the Bat's buttons. Then again, he's had practice at pushing _everybody's_ buttons. He has, after all, talked more than one person into committing suicide.

"So, where were you when they were screaming for help?" he continues. "Joyriding around in that tank of yours?"

He can almost see the tensing of muscles and he lets his smirk grow a little wider.

"You might want to call the police. You don't want Scarecrow in your car. He pushes every button he can find." He stretches as much as possible. "But do hurry up, I'd like to be back in time for the news."

THE END


	23. Movie Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is as close to a quiet evening out as we will get. Far more entertaining than a candle-filled restaurant. For us, that is, not for the bystanders.-Dr. Crane

Scarecrow and Jonathan don't always agree on things. Blondes or brunettes, injection or inhalation, red licorice or black…the list goes on. But one thing they very much agree on is fear. Specifically, scary movies.

Being Halloween, the local theatres are playing old Hitchcock movies for those brave enough to come out at night. They've settled on _Psycho_. Well, he and Scarecrow have settled on _Psycho_.

"A movie? It's Halloween!"

"And I'm getting over the flu, remember? Besides, Scarecrow wouldn't shut up until I said we could see _Psycho._ "

"If you say so, love." She doesn't look very convinced. "What time?"

"Seven."

Once they're situated at the top of the theatre, Jonathan dips his hand into his pocket and feels for a little remote. These people need to enjoy the movie properly, after all. Really, he's doing them a favor. His delayed-reaction toxin _should_ start to work right at the Shower Scene.

Sure enough, a few people in the front row start to whimper when the water comes on. By the time the knife rains down, they're screaming.

"Antidote in the orange juice?"

"Mm-hm."

"Not bad." She yawns and leans into his side, watching a flailing couple a few seats away. "They'll never watch this the same way again."

Neither will he.

THE END


	24. Boo

Gotham's haunted houses were never this impressive. But this one was new, and it was _good_.

It was lit only with black lights, making it all that much more likely that a visitor would walk into the wall. The wall was coated with spiderwebs, complete with little flocked tarantulas.

Batman hated it.

His suit made it hard to maneuver. It kept snagging on the webs. And that damned taunting…it was nearly as annoying a the Joker's laughter.

"Having trouble, little Bat?"

Sometimes he felt sorry for Crane. This was not one of those times.

"Take a left here, Bats. If you go right, you'll hit the wall."

Liars. If he thought he was going to do what he said, he really was insane.

**_Crash!_ **

"I said left, you idiot!" Crane sounded annoyed. "Are you deaf? That ridiculous mask must muffle your hearing."

Pot, kettle. Crane's mask muffled both his vision and his hearing, on top of looking very silly.

"Dolt." Oh, when he got his hands on him… "Batman, I want you to stop and listen to what I'm saying. When I tell you to take a certain turn, you should do it! You have spent the last half-hour destroying your surroundings. Two teenagers are in here screaming somewhere. You have ten minutes before they are beyond help."

He didn't really believe the man, but on the off chance he was telling the truth…damn.

He sighed and kept moving, hoping that Crane was lying about the teenagers.

It turned out that he was not. Batman gave them the antidote and put them in a safe place before stalking down another hallway.

He finally found the control room and froze. The only thing in here was a cell phone attached to the microphone.

"Ah, Batman." That smug little… "I'm sorry to cut and run, but I've had my flu shot and don't want to go back to Arkham right now."

"Crane…"

"Jonny-boy isn't here right now. I'd ask you to make an appointment, but he's booked through to Christmas. Happy Halloween, Bats. Pleasant screams."

He hung up and Batman took a deep breath. _God_ , he hated Halloween.

THE END


	25. Would You Like to See My Mask?

He'd _said_ he left early. He'd walked out the door and gotten into his car and started the ignition. And then promptly shut it off and got out to go to work. He didn't like to keep his patients waiting, after all.

He only had one tonight, seeing as the annual party was going on upstairs. He couldn't afford to attract attention, not tonight. It would jeopardize The Plan.

The patient-a Thomas Wilson, aged forty-was already waiting for him, strapped securely in the chair. He positioned his tape recorder and notepad within easy reach and opened his case, letting the man get a glance at the burlap mask inside.

"Good evening, Mr. Wilson." he said, plucking a needle from the case. This was his newest formula, with most of the issues worked out. In theory, anyway.

Mr. Wilson blinked up at him, his mouth firmly shut. Jonathan had used him as a subject before, and apparently he remembered everything. Scarecrow hovered just behind his eyelids, practically salivating at the fear in the room.

_Let me do this bit. We are getting paid, and you always bruise them when you play with needles._

**_Hurry up! I'm starving._ **

He flicked the needle, watching bubbles rise to the top, and gave it a little squirt. The clear liquid landed on his hand and he brushed it off.

"Would you like to see my mask?"

No matter how many times he said that line, he never got tired of it. Or of the widened eyes and stuttering whimper that followed it.

**_Quit the theatrics._ **

_I'm allowed to have fun too, you know._

He gripped the man's arm, squeezing hard enough to bring a vein to the surface, and checked the time. Nine forty-five PM.

At nine forty-six, the screaming started.

THE END


	26. Surprise

"Can I take the blindfold off now?"

"No."

"Kitty!"

"If you touch it, I'll put duct tape on your eyes instead."

He wasn't sure how much he liked being led along a deserted corridor with a blindfold on.

"Where are my glasses?"

"In my hand. Almost there."

"Where are we?"

"Earth."

"Ha-ha. Where are we?"

"You'll see!"

He put his free hand out to feel for any clue to his surroundings and came up blank.

"Where were you earlier?"

"Getting everything set up. Okay, stop."

He heard the sound of a key going into a lock and the blindfold was suddenly removed. He took his glasses back and looked around. This was an abandoned apartment building in the Narrows. Okay. What was so interesting about this?

"Okay."

"Go in!"

1408\. He bet the room choice was no accident.

Rachel Dawes was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room. This could be very interesting indeed.

"I took her taser." Kitty said from behind him. "You've got about two hours before you have to throw her out."

Oh, what a fun toy she'd brought him! And this would be a toy-he'd had a busy night, after all. He deserved some leisure time.

"Thank you, Kitty."

"Any time. And this building's completely empty, by the way. Enjoy."

"Where are you going?"

"To take a shower. Two hours, remember."

And then she was gone and he was alone with his new plaything. Scarecrow grinned and reached for the case.

THE END


	27. Bet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I think about it, I don't know that I ever did call in that bet. Wonder how much trouble I'll be in if I bring it up now...-Dr. Crane

"You look terrible."

"Thanks, Kitty. Thanks a lot."

"Just thought I'd tell you."

"Mm."

Jonathan Crane fell back on the mattress, clutching Scarecrow's face in his hands. He looked exhausted but tremendously pleased with himself. Kitty Richardson watched him make himself comfortable-those broken ribs had never healed quite right-before tossing her heels into the corner and beginning to unbutton her shirt.

"Tonight might have been our best." he murmured. Kitty tugged her skirt off and wandered over to seek out a nightshirt. "Kitty?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think?"

"Of tonight?"

"Yes."

"They won't forget it anytime soon."

"That's the idea." He sighed and set the mask on the floor. "What are you doing?"

"Taking my makeup off."

He didn't say anything else until she had dropped onto the mattress beside him.

"I believe we made a bet earlier this evening, Miss Richardson."

Damn. She'd been hoping he'd forgotten about that.

She'd bet him that the Batman would show up within five minutes. They had, after all, been…erm…'crashing' a charity masquerade that evening. The Batman, surprisingly enough, had arrived just after the main course. He hadn't been able to stop people from drinking the punch, however, and they'd slipped out in the confusion.

"We did indeed, Doctor Crane."

"I believe you lost."

"There's no need to rub it in."

He didn't say anything, but she knew he was smirking at her. Smug bastard.

"We'll discuss it in the morning. I haven't decided on anything yet."

Typical.

"Good for you."

"Bitter?"

"Maybe."

"Good." He yawned. "I'll try to decide on something by tomorrow."

"You'd better."

"Or maybe not. Night, Kitty."

THE END


	28. Candy

Jonathan has never had much of a sweet tooth. As a rule, the most sugar he can stand is a glass of lemonade.

He'll admit to having a fondness for those hard strawberry candies, however. When he was practicing, he used to keep a bowl of them on his desk.

Tonight he's settled down in a comfortable chair with a bag of said candies, watching a group of trick-or-treaters go on their merry way. Oh, he's looking forward to the evening news. How many children will he have gotten with this batch? Twenty? Thirty? Hopefully more than that, but some parents are alarmingly paranoid.

**_How dare they be responsible!_ **

_Granny let me play in the street, I turned out fine._

**_That's debatable._ **

He shares a quiet laugh with Scarecrow and leans back in his chair, opening another candy.

"Oh, they're cute." Kitty plops down in the other chair. "Do you want one?"

"Don't even joke."

She grins at him and jerks her head towards the house they've…borrowed.

"She's napping again."

"Again?"

"We're not invading a single mum's house again."

Not if they react this way. He learned earlier that gassing her only made her afraid for her child. It was never good to be the cause of that sort of fear.

"Fine."

"Are you sure you don't want one of those? Some sort of legacy-carrier?"

"The temptation to experiment on it would be too much." he admits. She laughs and puts her hand on his arm.

"Come on, love. News'll be on in a few minutes."

"I'll be in in a minute." he says.

Once she's gone, he unwraps the last of his strawberry candies and savors it. After a minute, he hears a shriek on the street over. It has begun.

THE END


	29. Night of the Living Fangirls

Leaves skittered along the deserted sidewalk, propelled by an icy breeze from the North. Winter was coming.

Gotham's streets were dead, the trick-or-treaters long since holed up in their homes, swapping candy. Not even a cat was out at this hour.

Jonathan Crane wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck and picked up his pace. It had been a fairly quiet Halloween this year-he'd been recovering from the flu and not up to his usual performance. He'd settled for crashing Gotham High's fall dance. He'd never particularly liked teenagers, entitled little monsters that they were. It was high time they learned to behave.

Kitty was probably back at the lair by now, hopefully putting the kettle on. They'd separated when the police arrived. Breaking out of Arkham was so much easier when they weren't both in it.

"Doctor Crane!"

The voice was high and excited-sounding. That couldn't be good. Maybe there was another Doctor Crane in the vicinity…

"That's him! Ohmygod, it's really him!"

This hypothetical 'other' Doctor Crane did not appear. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked a little faster. Maybe they were drunk and playing some kind of game?

Oh, he hoped they were drunk.

"Doctor Crane, Doctor Crane!"

"Get him!"

"Dibbs!"

Oh, god. _Fangirls_.

Gotham had been inundated with them lately-Harley had taken to bopping them with that giant mallet if they approached the Joker. How the clown had fangirls was a mystery. For that matter, why did they like _him_? He drove people insane. He hated children. For crying out loud, he went out of his way to inflict fear on innocent civilians! _What did they want with him?_

Not for the first time, he cursed his eyes. It was their fault. They always brought unwanted female attention. If he didn't need them-and if it wouldn't make him _sympathetic_ -he would gouge them out. Perhaps contact lenses…

"Mine!"

If he was a woman, he thought, this wouldn't be happening. He could press molestation charges. But noo, they were allowed to practically disrobe him and get away with it. If only he hadn't used all of his toxin earlier this evening!

He would almost have been grateful to see the Batman at this point.

"Go away!" Home! Now, where were those keys…? "What is wrong with you?" They kept coming, vacant grins plastered on their faces. "I have killed people! I killed my own grandmother!" They continued. "I have a girlfriend!"

The door swung open and he stumbled back with a yelp. Once he regained his footing, he ducked inside to let Kitty deal with this. Maybe they'd listen to her.

Three things happened in quick succession.

The fangirls rushed forward in a surging blob of bad dye jobs and fake breasts.

Kitty slammed the door.

There was the satisfying **_THUDTHUDTHUD_** of the rabid mob smacking into the wood, followed by a chorus of, "Ow!"

"Kitty."

"Where have you been! I had to fight off some drunk frat boy that got off on terror!" What. "By myself! I broke a nail!"

He slumped to the ground, listening to the moans of the injured fangirls outside.

"Sorry."

"Sorry, he says." she grumbled darkly. "I should have left you to the hordes."

He looked nervously at the door. He didn't want to be left to the hordes.

"Want me to get rid of him?"

"Maybe. Tea?"

Yes. Tea would be good.

THE END

 


	30. Scarecrows

"What is that?"

"It's a scarecrow, love."

"Is that supposed to be me? It doesn't look like me. It's a terrible version. I should teach him a lesson…"

"No! From _The Wizard of Oz_." He stared blankly at her and she flung her hands up. "For the love of…you've never seen it? Or read it?"

"No."

"Not even a piece of it?"

"No."

"For the love of Jesus, Jonathan! Come along, we're going out."

"It's late. Batman will be looking for us. You can go, but I'm not breaking you out of Arkham."

"Liar."

He shrugged. Kitty resisted the urge to shake him and instead shooed him into the other room. If she had to explain what _The Wizard of Oz_ was, she was going to scream. She knew he was sheltered, but really? To never have seen even a snippet of it? Fine. She would get him a copy tomorrow. And he would watch it, or else.

THE END


	31. Aftermath

Jonathan fell back on the bed and watched Kitty through half-closed eyelids. It had been a long night. A long, scream-filled night. Especially when the Batman showed up. Jonathan had never seen the police quite so upset about Batman's arrival. It had been beautiful.

He moved the wrong way and was reminded of the bruises he'd gotten making a break for it. Batman had been distracted by Gordon-hmm, he'd have to remember that for later-giving him the chance to climb out of a window. He wasn't the most graceful of people, however, and he'd taken a bit of a fall. At least his glasses had survived.

"Jonathan?"

"Mm."

"How are you feeling?"

"Bruised."

"Next time, watch where you're climbing."

Well, _that_ was helpful.

"Thanks, Kitty."

"Nothing's broken?"

"Doesn't feel like it."

"Sit up."

**_We should have gotten her a nurse costume. You know, the short one with a V-neck?_ **

_Shut up, Scarecrow._

**_You're no fun._ **

"You're going to have to take your shirt off, you know."

"What…sorry. Scarecrow was going on about something."

"Anything interesting?"

**_Yeah._ **

"No."

He shrugged out of the shirt and stayed still while she poked and prodded.

**_Is there the possibility of her going any lower?_ **

_Knock it off!_

**_But, but…_ **

_I'm bruised, tired, and in no mood for you. So shut up or I_ _will_ _rob a pharmacy and make you._

**_You wouldn't._ **

_I would._

After a mental staring contest, Scarecrow retreated, muttering something about a boring alter. Too bad. He really was tired. It had been a busy day.

"You all right, love?"

"Yes."

He sighed and lay back down, balling his shirt in his hands. Kitty ruffled his hair-he _hated_ when she did that-and flicked off the lights.

"Good night, then."

He didn't know if she fell asleep or not, but he lay awake until a ray of sunshine came into the room.

THE END


End file.
